


Great Responsibility

by HereSay_ThereSay



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Aunt May, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Medical Inaccuracies, Mental Health Issues, My First Work in This Fandom, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-13 19:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereSay_ThereSay/pseuds/HereSay_ThereSay
Summary: All Peter knew was that May was hurt—badly hurt. And he hadn’t been able to stop it.He was fucking Spider-Man, and he hadn’t been able to keep his aunt safe.(Or, How Peter Parker Learns That More People Care About Him Than He Previously Thought)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> hi. the name's ace, the game's writing fanfiction into the wee hours of the night.
> 
> so, as of right now, this is one chapter, but, should the People enjoy it and want More, i do have more In The Works. so. lemme know if that's of interest to,,, anyone, really
> 
> disclaimer: i know nothing about medical procedures or child protective services or,,, most things, honestly. if you see any Specific Inaccuracies and you know how i can Fix Them, give me a shout (i'm very shout friendly)

Peter knew, in the back of his mind, that there was nothing he could’ve done. That this wasn’t like Uncle Ben—none of this was his fault.

The front of his mind, however…

He’d gotten the call thirty minutes after May left the house. She was just supposed to be picking up pasta and milk from the bodega on the corner, supposed to be back in twenty minutes, _tops_.

Peter had actually been in the process of putting on the suit to go look for her when his phone rung.

“ _Excuse me_ ?” the voice had asked. “ _Is this Peter Parker_?”

She was calling on behalf of Flushing Hospital Medical Center, saying that he was listed as May Parker’s dependent and that he needed to come to the hospital as soon as possible.

That had been four hours ago, and Peter still felt like he was about to vomit.

_Hit and run._

_Major head trauma._

_Coma._

_Low chance of full recovery._

It’s like someone stole dialogue from a bad medical drama and decided to spit it at Peter all at once.

He wasn’t allowed to see her yet. Something about surgery and unstable conditions or _something_ , Peter wasn’t really comprehending anything anyone was saying at that point.

All he knew was that May was hurt—badly hurt. And he hadn’t been able to stop it.

He was fucking _Spider-Man_ , and he hadn’t been able to keep his aunt safe.

“Mr. Parker?” a voice said from above him, and Peter looked up to see a young woman in a grey suit standing over him. “My name is Amelia Eilish, I’m the social worker that’s been assigned to your case. I know this whole thing is incredibly difficult, but if there’s anyone you think we should call, a grandparent or cousin or—”

“There isn’t,” Peter mumbled, trying his best not to sound bitter about it. About being _alone_. “May—she’s all I got.”

“There’s absolutely no one?” Eilish asked.

Peter’s mind flashed to Ned, but his parents already had their hands full with Ned and his sisters, Peter couldn’t ask them to take him in. The only other person he could think of…

“No,” Peter muttered. “There’s no one.”

Eilish sighed. “Well then,” she said quietly. “I’ll see if I can find you a temporary home, just until we can get everything figured out—”

“Wait,” Peter blurted out, his head reeling even more than it was before. “There is—maybe—there might be someone you can call.”

 ***

Tony was in the lab when his phone rang, which in and of itself wasn’t all that surprising—Tony was almost always in the lab between the hours at ten p.m. and three a.m. What was surprising was the caller I.D.

_ Peter Parker _ .

The kid  _ never _ called him. He either texted, or he facetimed, or  _ something _ . Tony actually doubted that the kid even knew where the call button on his phone  _ was _ .

Needless to say, Tony answered.

“Hey, kid—”

“Is this Tony Stark?” someone who was decidedly  _ not _ Peter Parker interrupted.

“This is he,” Tony said casually, as if he wasn’t half way into his suit and tracking Peter’s suit as he said it.

“Seriously?” the person—woman, young by the sound of it—asked, sounding more than a little surprised.

Tony paused. “Last I checked, yeah,” he replied. Peter’s phone put him at Flushing Hospital Medical Center, which didn’t really do much for Tony’s nerves. “What’s up? Where’s the kid?”

“Mr. Stark, I’m sorry to bother you, but my name is Ava Eilish. I’m calling from Peter Parker’s phone. His aunt has been in an accident and he said you were the best person to call. My apologies if—”

“What sort of accident?” Tony asked, the armour around him falling away as he picked up his jacket from his work bench and tugged it on.

“May Parker was involved in a hit-and-run at roughly seven-thirty this evening,” the woman explained. “She’s been in surgery for the past four hours. I’m calling because Peter is in need of a place to stay until further arrangements can be made.”

“I’m on my way,” Tony said sharply. “How’s Peter? Is—is he alright?”

“He wasn’t involved in the accident, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the woman reassured him. “He’s holding up about as well as can be expected.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

***

Peter wasn’t expecting Mr. Stark to show up. That’s not some sort of slight against the man—really, it’s not—he just… wasn’t expecting it.

So when Tony Stark  _ did _ show up, bursting through the doors with all the dramatism of a soap opera star, Peter was shocked, to say the least.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, hopping up and ignoring the way the room seemed to be spinning, ignoring the feeling bubbling up in his throat, the dampness creeping up in the corners of his eyes. “Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call, and—”

“Whoa, slow down, kid,” Mr. Stark interrupted, holding up a hand as he looked over Peter. “You did the right thing, okay? No need to apologise or anything.”

Peter blinked up at him in a way that could  _ not _ have seemed intelligent, and, to his mortification, he felt the tears begin to slip down his face. “Mr. Stark, Aunt May, she’s…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he wiped at his face with the sleeves of his jacket, desperately trying to stop himself from crying.

For a moment, Mr. Stark didn’t do anything, he just stared at Peter. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he finally said. “I’m going to go see what’s up, and then we’re going to go get you something to eat because you look like one light breeze could knock you over.”

“Mr. Stark, you don’t have to—” Peter tried to protest, only to be cut off by Mr. Stark holding up a finger.

“Technically, I don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” he replied. “Perks of being a billionaire superhero and all that. Doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand here and watch you wither away, alright? Now, go sit down, give me five minutes, and we’ll be out of here.”

“But May—”

Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll take care of it. Trust me, kid.”

For some reason, Peter did.

***

“Eat, kid,” Tony said, handing Peter his burger and fries as they settled back into the car. “I don’t want to have to carry you to bed after you pass out from malnourishment.”

Peter stared at the food for a moment before taking a slow bite. 

A minute later, the sandwich was gone.

“Hungry?” Tony asked.

“Hm? Uh, yeah—I mean—” Peter said quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning an impressive shade of red. “I haven’t, y’know—”

“Easy there, tiger,” Tony interrupted. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I just—I haven’t eaten since May, y’know,” Peter mumbled, dipping a fry in ketchup. “And ever since the bite, my metabolism has been  _ crazy _ , so…”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony said, looking Peter over again. No wonder the kid looked like an extra off  _ The Walking Dead _ .

Peter finished the rest of his fries and his chocolate shake at a more reasonable pace, stealing glances up at Tony every now and then.

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said. Peter’s head shot up a moment later, eyes wide with concern. “Christ, kid, get that look off your face,” Tony muttered. “I’m not about to toss you out onto the street.”

Peter shook his head a little bit, as if that would shake the ‘kicked puppy’ look off his face. “Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he rushed to say, running a hand through his hair.

“So I was thinking,” Tony continued, “Maybe we could move your aunt up to the compound.”

“To the what?” Peter asked, blinking in shock.

“The compound,” Tony repeated. “Y’know, the one upstate? I’m pretty sure I offered you a room up there, like, a month ago.”

“You mean… you mean the  _ Avengers’ _ compound?” Peter questioned. Tony did his best not to roll his eyes.

“No, the  _ other _ compound upstate equipped with a fully functional hospital and some of the best doctors in the world,” he replied. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of boy genius?”

“Oh,” Peter muttered, “Oh, oh yeah.”

“So what do you think, kid?” Tony asked, looking over at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “Of course, we won’t do it if you don’t want to—she’s  _ your _ aunt, after all. I just thought it’d be easier for everyone that way. You could visit her any time—hell, she’d be right down the hall—”

“Right down the hall?” Peter repeated, his confusion palpable.

Tony was honestly starting to question this kid’s placement on the academic decathlon team. “Well yeah,” he answered. “Your room is just a hop, skip, and a web sling away from the med bay. You could see her whenever you wanted.”

“My—my room? What do you mean, ‘my room’?”

Jesus Christ. This kid.

“I mean, your room. In the compound. Where you’ll be staying until your aunt is at 100% again,” Tony explained slowly.

“You mean I’m staying with you? Upstate?  _ With the Avengers _ ?” Peter asked, looking as if he was about two seconds from pinching himself.

It took all of Tony’s notably thin self control to not sigh in exasperation. That’d be tacky. The kid had had a rough day. He was allowed to be a bit slow.

“No,” Tony drawled, “I was going to toss you out on the street with last week’s leftovers—of course you’re staying with me. Honestly, I’m a bit offended you’d assume otherwise. I mean, who d’you take me for?”

Peter just shrugged, staring down at his hands, and Tony felt his chest constrict.

He chalked it up to his heart problems.

“Jesus Christ, kid, that’s why you called me in the first place, isn’t it?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter half-heartedly agreed. “I just—don’t feel obligated to take me in, Mr. Stark. Really, you don’t have to. I’m almost sixteen anyway, I’d be fine on my own—”

“Slow down, kid,” Tony interrupted. “For one,  I’m not doing this out of  _ pity _ , or whatever other bullshit is going through your mind, alright? For another thing,‘almost sixteen’ or not, I’m pretty sure that’s  _ illegal _ . Child endangerment and all that jazz.”

“Are you… are you sure, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked cautiously. “I’m kinda a handful—I eat a lot and I talk too much and sometimes I sit on the ceiling and that’s weird—”

“I’m sure, Peter,” Tony assured him. “The only question is, do you want me to have May moved upstate with us, or would you rather—”

“Bring her with us,” Peter cut in. “Please. Just… promise you’ll take good care of her.”

“Of course, kid,” Tony replied. “I promise.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Isn't Doing So Hot, to the shock of No One
> 
>  
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF A PANIC ATTACK, FOR MORE SEE BEGINNING AUTHOR'S NOTES ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know, this was supposed to be Science Dad And Science Child Bonding Time, but  
> life had other plans, apparently.
> 
>  
> 
> peter's panic attack is based upon the panic attacks i've suffer from in the past, and it may read a bit weird, but it was the best way i could think of to communicate what he's feeling at that moment, so please Let It Be

May was moved up to the compound as soon as she was declared stable enough to make the trip.

Peter swore he’d never felt this sick in his life. Not when he got the flu in third grade, or strep throat in seventh. Not after the bite. Not even when Ben…

Even then, he’d known, awful as it was, that he’d still have May. He wouldn’t be _alone_.

His room at the compound was, frankly, _incredible_. On any other occasion, he would’ve spent _hours_ just looking over the place. There was a massive bed against one wall, topped with what had to be the _softest_ sheets and duvet Peter had felt in his entire life. One corner was a mini library, with cosy chairs and books and these cool string lights shaped like atoms. Another was dedicated to movies and video games, with a ginormous entertainment center and a couch that could probably fit his entire homeroom class on it. There was a mini fridge, a snack cupboard, his own bathroom—it was _awesome_.

But, as Peter sat at the fancy desk that seemed to be a fucking _holotable, holy shit_ , all he could feel was fear gnawing at his gut, like it was trying to eat him from the inside out.

May was in a _coma_.

Dr. Cho had said that if she made it through the next 24 hours, there’d be a good chance of recovery—something like 85 percent.

_If_ she made it through the next 24 hours.

Peter held his head in his hands for what felt like eons.

“Hey, kid? You okay in there?”

_Mr. Stark_.

Peter had hardly said a word to his mentor since they’d arrived at the hospital after getting dinner. He’d stayed silent as Mr. Stark signed the papers that made him Peter’s temporary guardian, stayed silent as arrangements were made for May’s transfer, stayed silent as they rode upstate.

He knew it was dumb, but he _couldn’t talk_ . He couldn’t get the words out. It was like he was crushed under that stupid parking garage again, his words pinned down by the weight of how much this whole scenario fucking _sucked_.

“Kid? Peter?”

Peter felt tears welling up again. God, how many times would he cry tonight?

“Peter, I’m coming in,” Mr. Stark said, and Peter heard the doorknob twist.

“I’m okay,” he croaked out as loud as he could, furiously rubbing his eyes. “Really, Mr. Stark—”

“Oh yeah, because sitting alone in the dark just _screams_ emotional stability,” Mr. Stark deadpanned, flicking on the lights. Peter winced at the sudden brightness of the room.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted. “Honestly. I just—”

“Okay, cut the crap, kid,” Mr. Stark interrupted. “You’re not fine. You’re not okay. If you _were_ , I’d be seriously concerned.”

Peter glared at him. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “My aunt is in a _coma_ , Mr. Stark! She might not ever wake up! I might—I’m going to _lose her_ . She’s all I have left, and I’m going to _lose her_. So yeah, I’m not okay. Congratulations for pointing it out.”

Mr. Stark looked startled, to say the least, and it dawned on Peter all at once that _he had just mouthed off to Iron Man. Again._

“Look, Peter, I get it,” Mr. Stark said quietly. “It sucks. No, it’s _absolute bullshit_. But you can’t just lock yourself in here. You heard what Dr. Cho said, your aunt it going to be up and at ‘em in no time, and God knows she’ll have my ass if she learns that I let you become a hermit while she was out.”

“But what if—”

“Don’t think about that,” Mr. Stark ordered. “Right now? Your aunt is alive, and if I have any say about it, she’s going to stay that way for a good, long time.”

Peter nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay.”

“Alright then,” Mr. Stark said, standing to his feet. “I don’t know about you, but _I’ve_ been sort of bored, just sitting around. Think I’m going to head down to the lab, do a bit of tinkering. Wanna come with?”

Peter knew what Mr. Stark was doing, dangling his _probably definitely super fucking cool_ lab in front of Peter like one of those cat toys with the rod and the sting and the little feather thing. A change of subject, a way to keep both of their minds off of the fact that Peter’s aunt was plugged into a million different machines a few doors down, possibly not going to make it through the next day.

But at that moment, Peter welcomed the distraction.

“Sure, o-okay,” he replied. “That—yeah, that sounds good.”

***

Peter was right. Mr. Stark’s lab _amazing_ , even more awesome than Peter had imagined. So awesome, in fact, that for a minute or two, it served its current intended purpose, and Peter forgot about May and the uncertainty and fear that shrouded the next few days.

He then remembered and felt like _the worst person ever_.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think I should be doing this,” he stated carefully. “I mean, I should be with May. If I was the one hurt, she wouldn’t leave me, she’d stay with me the whole time—”

“Breathe, kid,” Mr. Stark said. “Look, if you want me to, I can pull up the video feed from the cameras in the med bay, you’ll be able to see her the whole time we’re in here. If anything happens, we’ll know immediately.”

“You can do that?” Peter asked.

“Yup,” Mr. Stark replied easily. “Watch. Friday, pull up the feed from camera M-18.”

Just like that, an image appeared above the lab table Mr. Stark was standing beside. It was May, in bed. If Peter ignored all the tubes and equipment surrounding her, he could almost convince himself she was just taking a nap.

Immediately, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest.

“You can pull this up at the desk in your room too, kid. Anytime you feel like it,” Mr. Stark explained. “But if you still want to go down to the med bay, be my guest.”

“Actually,” Peter muttered, “Actually, I think I’m okay. I, uh, I think I’ll stay.”

“Cool. Great. It’s been a while since I had a lab assistant,” Mr. Stark said nonchalantly, but Peter could see the barest hints of a smile on his face.

From across the room, something whined. Peter just about jumped onto the ceiling, spinning towards the noise so quickly that the only thing that kept him upright was his super-spider-reflexes (before the bite, Peter hadn’t even thought spiders _had_ super reflexes; he thought they just had, y’know, normal bug reflexes).

“No, Dummy, you don’t count,” Mr. Stark said, seemingly ignorant of Peter’s near-face plant.

“Dummy?” Peter asked, doing his best to not be offended. “Mr. Stark, why’d you call me—”

“Not you, kid,” Mr. Stark cut in. “See that ugly pile of scrap metal over there?” He pointed at a tall contraption in the corner. It looked sort of like a claw machine, without the box. Or the toys.

“Yeah,” Peter replied.

“That’s Dummy,” Mr. Stark explained. “I built him when I was about your age, actually.”

“Really?” Peter questioned, moving over to the robot and peering at it intently. “That’s so cool! What’s he do?”

“Oh, you know, this and that. Make smoothies, put out fires. Normal robot stuff,” Mr. Stark answered from behind Peter. “Well, he’s supposed to. Mostly he’s just a pain in the ass.”

Dummy whined pitifully, and Peter felt the overwhelming urge to pet him.

“You know it’s true,” Mr. Stark retorted.

Peter looked over the robot for another minute or so before turning back to Mr. Stark. “Wait,” he said. “You built a robot and named him _Dummy_?”

“Spelt D-U-M-E,” Mr. Stark added. “I’ll admit, my sense of humour was a bit lacking.”

Peter glanced up at Mr. Stark, who was leaning against a work table with a small smile on his face. “So, uh,” Peter said, which seemed to shake the older man out of his thoughts. “What am I, uh, doing? In here?”

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Well, I was _thinking_ you could maybe we could tinker around with that nifty AI of yours, but if you want to mess with a thirty-something-year-old robot instead, be my guest,” he said, gesturing towards DUM-E.

“Wait, Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, hopping to his feet. “Wha—What’d you want to do with Karen?”

Mr. Stark stared at Peter for a moment, an incredulous look in his eyes. “You give me shit about naming my robot _DUM-E_ ,” he said slowly. “And you named your AI _Karen_.”

“Hey! Karen is a _perfectly fine_ name for an AI! I couldn’t just go on calling her _suit lady_ . Besides, at least Karen is a _real name_ , unlike DUM-E or Friday,” Peter defended.

Mr. Stark’s eyes widened quickly as his mouth thinned into a scowl, and Peter realised that _maybe_ he shouldn’t have mouthed off— _for the third goddamn time—_ to the _superhero billionaire_ whose house he was _currently living in_ and whose medical team was _keeping his aunt alive_.

Peter felt his nausea return.

Oh God, Mr. Stark was going to kick him out. He was going to send May back, he was going to kick Peter out, Peter was going to have to apply for a job at Delmar’s or something so he could pay for rent and gas and water and Wi-Fi and medical bills and stuff and if Mr. Stark sent May back it would probably hurt her and—

“Hey, woah, hold up, kid,” a voice said from above Peter, who’d somehow found himself on the lab floor, his back pressed against DUM-E. “I’m not an expert in this sort of thing, but I’m pretty sure even human-spider mutant hybrids have to _breathe_.”

Peter was pretty sure that was Mr. Stark, which was sort of ridiculous considering he’d just fucking _insulted Tony Stark, aka Iron Man_ , _for like the third or fourth fucking time,_   _oh God he was going to die_ , and the man would probably not be super keen on comforting Peter right then.

But, as Mr. Stark so helpfully pointed, Peter _did_ need to breathe.

Which, he realised in a panic, he _couldn’t do_.

“Can’t—can’t—” Peter tried to choke out, but the words wouldn’t come.

It was all too familiar. All at once, Peter found himself stuck back beneath the rubble of that fucking parking garage. He was stuck— _he couldn’t breathe_ —and Mr. Stark was going to throw him out, and Aunt May was going to die, and Peter would be _alone_ —

“Peter, hey, listen to me, look at me,” Mr. Stark insisted.

Peter shook his head gasping for air.

“Uh, sorry, wrong answer, kid. You need to look at me, alright? Eyes up,” Mr. Stark argued.

But Peter _couldn’t_ . He _couldn’t_ look up and see the inevitable anger and disappointment in Mr. Stark’s eyes, just like how he _couldn’t_ breathe, like how he _couldn’t_ save May, like how he _couldn’t save Ben_ —

“Okay then,” Mr. Stark muttered. “Okay, alright. That’s—fuck. So, here’s the deal, kiddo. I’m going to count, and I want you to try and inhale until four and exhale until eight. You’re a smart kid, I know you can do it, alright? So, just—just try for me, okay?”

And Peter wanted to, he really did. He didn’t want to further upset Mr. Stark, but—

“...three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”

Peter sputtered and choked as he tried to get air into his lungs.

“...five, six, seven, eight, one, two…”

After what felt like an eternity, Peter finally managed to time his breaths to the steady beat of Mr. Stark’s words.

He felt like _shit_.

His head was pounding, his vision was swimming, his stomach seemed to be sitting in his mouth.

It’d been worse this time. Because this wasn’t the first time—it wasn’t even the _third or fourth_ time—this had happened, but they usually only lasted about thirty seconds and he’d never _fallen down_ before.

He’d had a fucking _panic attack_ in front of _Tony Stark_.

God, could Peter’s life have fucked him over any harder?

“Nice to have you back, kid,” Mr. Stark said from just above him, and Peter peeked up to see him squatted in the dust and the dirt of the lab floor. “You want some help up?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he quickly cleared his throat before shaking his head. “No, no, I’m, uh, I’m good,” he replied, hauling himself to his feet. “Mr. Stark, I’m so sorry about that, and about all the mouthing off and being a smartass, really, just—please let me stay. Please. Just until May wakes up, and then I’ll go, I swear, and May can go back to Flushing—”

“Jesus Christ, kid, you really go from zero to sixty, don’t you?” Mr. Stark interrupted with a sigh. “Slow down, okay?”

“O—Okay,” Peter mumbled, staring down at his shoes.

“Now then, you said something about leaving?” Mr. Stark asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, yeah,” Peter muttered. “Once May’s awake, I swear, but until then, _please_ , I don’t want to be so far away from her, and I don’t want to move her again while she’s so…”

Peter couldn’t finish the sentence, looking up to where the video feed of Aunt May was playing.

“Peter, I need you to listen to me—and I mean _really listen_ ,” Mr. Stark said, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder with a lightness that Peter hadn’t ever really thought him capable of. “ _I don’t want you to leave_. I don’t know where you even got that idea in the first place—”

“But Mr. Stark, I was rude—”

“ _What part of listen_ —” Mr. Stark said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damn it, kid, just—you weren’t rude, okay? _Trust me_ , I know what rude is, my family practically invented it. And even if you _were_ rude, I _still_ wouldn’t kick you out, okay? God knows everyone in this damn building has had their fair share of rude moments, myself more than most. So. You can forget about whatever tragedy scenario you’ve got playing it that head of yours, okay?”

Peter gnawed on his lower lip, still not meeting Mr. Stark’s eyes. “Are you sure?” he murmured a moment later.

“Am I— _yes_ , kid, I’m sure. Absolutely, 100%, without a shadow of a doubt, I am fucking _positive_ ,” Mr. Stark replied.

“Okay,” Peter said quietly. “Okay, that’s—that’s great. Awesome.”

“Yeah, I’d certainly say so.”

Peter sighed, relief finally settling on his shoulders like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

“Although, if you don’t mind me asking,” Mr. Stark continued. “That… was that the first time that had happened?”

“No,” Peter answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Alright then,” Mr. Stark stated casually, as if it was no big deal. As if Peter hadn’t just had a massive breakdown in front of him. “If it gets worse, or you need to talk, or any other sappy bullshit like that, you can talk to me. Or we can forgo all this _emotional, heart to heart_ nonsense in favour of blowing shit up down here. Whatever.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled.

“Speaking of, you still wanna play around down here, or…?”

Peter was torn. On one hand, playing around in Iron Man’s lab, _with Iron Man_ **.** On the other hand, Peter felt like he was about a minute from passing out against the probably-super-expensive work table he was currently leaning against.

“If you want to go back up to your room, or watch a movie, or do whatever it is you kids do to ‘chillax’ these days instead, I understand,” Mr. Stark said, putting air quotes around the word _chillax_ . Peter couldn’t help the strangled laugh that escaped his throat as Mr. Stark continued, “God knows feelings are _exhausting_.”

“Actually, a, uh, a movie sounds pretty good,” Peter replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Can… can I still see May if we watch a movie?”

“Of course, kid,” Mr. Stark assured him, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders in an oddly comforting gesture as he led Peter out of the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! of god knows how many! yay! i'd just like to thank everyone who encouraged me to continue this, be it through kudos or comments! you guys are amazing!
> 
> lemme know what you Think!

**Author's Note:**

> so that's that, then, yes? yes. okay.
> 
> lemme know what you Think!


End file.
